Conquered
by All Galimatias
Summary: Love conquered all, she had been told. Did it conquer this?


2. Love

(A warning: this turned out more frightening than was intended.)

She'd heard it said before, that all actions could be explained by one desire. What that specific desire was nobody seemed sure. Pride, that was popular, greed, the burning passion to build a stairway to heaven. It was a sad world that they lived in, she reflected, if that was the case. But then she knew that already.

Personally, she thought that love gave all other suggestions a run for their money.

Love for yourself. Love of money, clothes, food, things in excess. Love for another.

That was where the danger lay, she thought. Love for another. People did crazy things when they were in love, and she was sure it was a fairytale that most of these insane actions where self-sacrificing. A pretty story, for romantics. In any case, there was nothing crazy about dying for something you loved.

She would die for the one she loved, without hesitation or thought. Throw herself in front of a bullet; take the force of the blow, all those clichés. Not only that, she would live for the one she loved too, a much harder feat. She would, she had, done deals with the devils creatures, sold herself a thousand times over, subjected her mind and body to trials and torture.

She would act for someone she loved too. Not the sort to write poetry proclaiming a love unrequited, she would dance to any tune he played, perform endless gestures of admiration, any move she could think of to prove herself. She wasn't the type to rest after a rejection, to lick her wounds. She did not move on. She did not become bitter. She persevered.

She did not understand why he did not love her. A full length mirror, cracked in a way that left an intricate web of lines to distort her face and hide her eyes, showed a beautiful girl. Elegant, shapely, with soft pale-blonde hair that fell down her back in waves. Dark blue eyes that were mysterious and enticing, clear skin devoid from blemish, delicate hands and features. The hands in question were skilled, and efficient. They were also clutching a long knife.

Love conquered all, she had been told. Did it apply to laws, rules and ethics, she wondered as her apartment door clicked shut behind her, did it mean that she could forgive herself, if she acted in the name of love? Black heels clicked on cold stone as she walked through silent streets; the knife had disappeared, but only from sight.

Hands freed, one trailed light against the cool surface of a handrail, brushing droplets of water to the floor. She flicked her wet fingers at the darkness as she wondered how many people had been praised for acting in love. Love for one's country started wars; love for something that was not yours caused them too. That love was celebrated, that sacrifice. It was so very curious.

Near her destination, she slipped off her shoes, one hand neatly depositing them into a dark corner of the concrete stairwell, padding silently up the stairs. Her dress moved in soft rustles around her lithe form.

She had once saved a kitten from drowning, out of love. Love for the poor little creature, though that was weak, the love she felt for her sister was more potent. A feeling often forgotten rather than ignored overwhelmed as she was by her love for _him_. But she remembered her sweet natured older sister, and saved the kitten for her. Her sister had loved it, and cared for it for a very long time. It had run away, in the end, because of their brother. Animals did not tend to like him. She did not understand them. But it did come back.

You love something, set it free, it'll come back if it was meant to be, her sister had sung.

That she did not understand. If you love something, you should hold it close and never let it go. Never let it be taken away, stolen, she mused as let herself into a house belonging to someone she had never seen, but heard much about. If you let someone steal something you love, you have only yourself to blame when it does not come back.

Paintings, photos, pictures that adorn the walls up the stairs; she ignores them. When you are in love it's like a disease, that was how someone had described it to her. A disease, a sickness, that causes a malfunction of the heart, that addles the brain, makes your eyes sparkle. A disease that can bring you back to life when all is lost. A disease that can be fatal, she reflected as her midnight blue eyes came to rest on a sleeping form. Whether you are the one diagnosed with love, or an unfortunate bystander experiencing the outward effect of the symptoms.

Metal caressed skin and painted a line of scarlet across a bare throat.

If you love so much it hurts, there is no hurt but more love, someone dearly loved and departed once said. She loved and hurt, and caused hurt because she loved. Could she be forgiven?

She was told, through life and circumstance, that nothing should stand in the way of love. That you fought for it, and nurtured it. That love was to be valued above everything. Love above life, what is life without love? Just because it was not her life she was dealing with.

Soft steps down steps and a mistake; a side glance towards a single photo in a simple frame. The body upstairs with the one she loved, smiles that were slight but more than she was used to. Nothing was gentle about the slash to one side that shattered the glass and pierced the skin of the photograph.

Salt water in her eyes, making them sting. She quietly let herself out of the house and found her shoes. She dropped the knife into a lake.

If love caused all actions, then she cursed the emotion. She cursed herself for being so manipulated by it. She cursed existence and actions, clichés and clothes, beautiful girls and black heels clicking on cold stone, kittens and knives and all else between.

She hated herself, but she still loved him.

Natalya let out a sigh of air that mingled with the night.

Doesn't love make everything better?

(At some later date, this may be continued. Originally it contained Elizaveta, and this may drive me to continue this when I do not have so much on. I thank you for reading, and reviewing if you will.)


End file.
